


Thriving Themes

by CadetDru



Series: courtship genres [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Canon Asexual Character, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Minor Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker, Paranoia, Rope Bondage, Season/Series 02, Trust Issues, Voice Kink, everyone stays clothed (minus one jumper), literally just talking, not super important but jon can cook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: Jon had invited Martin back to his flat for a spot of light domination flavored with a heavily weighted flirtation. Literally none of that had been expressed in such bald terms.  It needed to be.  They needed to establish ground rules.The problem was that Jon didn't want ground rules. The entire idea was to contain Martin, to keep him from doing anything nefarious just in case he was thinking about it. Martin was a potential threat, all appearances to the contrary. Jon wanted to keep him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: courtship genres [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932031
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Thriving Themes

Jon had invited Martin back to his flat for a spot of light domination flavored with a heavily weighted flirtation. Literally none of that had been expressed in such bald terms. It needed to be. They needed to establish ground rules.

The problem was that Jon didn't want ground rules. The entire idea was to contain Martin, to keep him from doing anything nefarious just in case he was thinking about it. Martin was a potential threat, all appearances to the contrary. Jon wanted to keep him.

Jon was not thinking of spiders and webs. Jon was wanting to tie Martin up within Jon's flat. Jon was going to do it. Thinking of it in terms of spiders and flies sickened Jon, nearly drained it of any potential pleasure, but the thought kept coming back.

(Knock, knock.)

Jon didn't knock on his own door, just showed Martin in. He'd been there before, less than a week before. It had been a long day before Jon initiated whatever this was with Martin in his office. Martin stood just inside the doorway, smiled and dimpled and glowed and just looked as innocently happy as a grown man could be. 

"Hungry?" Jon said. 

Martin nodded. Jon was all but certain that he wasn't paying any attention.

Jon made them both a quick and light dinner, a distraction while he got his thoughts in order. Martin was annoyingly surprised. Jon made them a pantry meal, thrown together from whatever he had. Food staved off conversation.

Jon waited until Martin had a mouthful of food. "Safe word?" he asked. 

Martin politely held a hand in front of his mouth as he simultaneously chewed and talked. "Spider," he said. His eyes were lit up with the smile that Jon couldn't trust.

"Jesus, Martin," Jon said. It hit him to the core. Martin couldn't know what Jon had (not) been thinking. It couldn't have been personalized. 

Martin was done chewing, and dropped his hand. The smile Jon had suspected was there. "Effective, right?"

"Bit of a mood killer, actually," Jon grumbled.

"That's kind of what I was thinking," Martin said liltingly.

Jon nodded. It was an elegant idea. He wasn't expecting that from Martin. He was consistently underestimating him. That was potentially dangerous.

Martin excused himself to freshen up. Jon took advantage of his absence to grab rope and backup scissors. He was out of practice, but he had some ideas of what he wanted and what would be feasible to do. Jon put a cushion on the floor of the living room, in direct eye line of a very comfortable chair. 

When he returned, Jon was a little surprised to see that he'd removed his jumper. His T-shirt didn't reveal anything besides a stretch of his upper arms. It was a perfectly acceptable garment. It was just interesting that he was stripping already.

"We should start...slow," Jon said.

Martin nodded. "Whatever you'd like," Martin said, which was another deceptive comment. He tossed his jumper onto the couch, not making eye contact. He stood by the cushion, staring down at it. 

Jon wanted to slap him, some place or multiple places on his body, just to startle him. Backhand to the face, just to focus his eyes. Random violence was exactly the kind of thing that he was not going to indulge in.

"Jon?" Martin said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're...staring."

"Kneel," Jon said.

"Fuck," Martin said, dropping to his knees like he'd been struck. His eyes widened, face flushed, mouth hung open just a bit. He clasped his hands loosely behind his back. 

"No, I don't think so," Jon said, settling into his chair.

Martin started to stammer, which wasn't new: "I'm sorry." Jon had told him that he was asexual, wasn't trying to be unclear or ambiguous in any way. This was about trust and intimacy, or something in between the two.

Jon leaned forward, elbows propped up on knees, legs spread comfortably. "You don't need to apologize for your fantasies," he said.

"You don't know what I've been thinking," Martin said. His voice was threaded with a deep hunger. 

"I'll only know what you tell me," Jon said. It was too obvious to need to be pointed out. 

Martin laughed. "Words don't exist. This is fine, this is more..."

"You're not even bringing me tea. You have to want more than this."

"I don't..." Martin said. "I mean, I do, but I don't..."

"I want to tie you up," Jon said, each word being pulled out of his mouth by his own desires. "I'm not going to touch you."

"Alright," Martin said. Was that disappointment in his voice?

"Maybe a kiss," Jon muttered, that same pull of honesty freeing those words. He wanted to feel that slight pout on Martin's lips. There was nothing stopping him. Martin wanted it too. Jon kissed him quickly, like he was getting away with something. He pulled back to see the look on Martin's face. 

Martin was pressing his own lips together, clearly savoring the touch and taste of Jon's kiss. The memory wasn't enough, fresh as it was. Martin tried to move in for another kiss, hands sort of fluttering as he reached towards Jon. 

Jon pulled back just for the principle of it. "Wrists behind your back," he commanded.

Martin immediately obeyed, which Jon appreciated. Jon made sure there was room under the rope for Martin's circulation, laid his finger on Martin's pulse point just to feel his heartbeat. He squeezed Martin's hands. 

Jon knelt in front of Martin, on his level. He ran his hands up and down Martin's arms, feeling goosebumps on the warm flesh. "Are you comfortable?" Jon asked. "You should relax."

Martin settled his weight back towards his heels. "I'm alright."

"How long can you stay like this?" Jon said, walking around Martin to take in the view from all angles. 

Martin spread his hands wide, flexing against the rope. "Only one way to find out."

"This isn't an interrogation," Jon said. He wanted it to be true. If he could take Martin at face value, then it was true. He knew better than that. "Just a friendly conversation."

"Friendly," Martin echoed with a laugh. 

"Not something you'd do with a friend?" Jon said.

"Not most of them," Martin stammered, looking away. The transparent subterfuge was what made it interesting.

"But maybe some of them?"

"Not any more." Martin considered for a second, then laughed to himself. "There's no one else, Jon. There never was. I haven't... I haven't dated anyone, touched anyone, since I moved back into a real flat."

The distinction there was odd to Jon's ear. "You brought dates back to your cot?" he guessed.

Martin shook his head so emphatically that Jon couldn't help but believe him. "I would never have dared bring someone back there."

"Not even..." Jon said with a smile. 

"You?" Martin said, nodding again. Jon was worried that he might hurt his neck. "Yes, God. You were already there half the time. I thought about it so much. You walking in on me touching myself, and just...joining me to show me how I should do it properly. Telling me to pay close attention like I could do anything else." Martin's face burned red. 

"You sound like quite the expert," Jon said, working to keep a sneer off his face. "I doubt even your imagined version of me would have anything to teach you."

Martin laughed. "One area where I'm competent." 

"And it'll go to waste," Jon said. He wasn't going to be taking advantage of Martin's alleged skillset. 

Martin frowned. "I don't..."

"You're beautiful," Jon said. It was supposed to be a subject change. It seemed to be on topic still. Jon didn't want to start talking about how Martin could probably walk out the door and pull someone on his way home. It was relatively early on a Friday night. Martin surely had plenty of options. It was a terrible suggestion, a different kind of unhealthy than whatever Jon was offering.

"I still think your poetry could do with some polishing, but the way your face lights up when you're passionate..."

Martin closed his eyes, a slight moan escaping his lips.

"And when you're listening," Jon said. He got up to cross the short distance to Martin. "You do like to hear me talk, don't you?"

"Fuck me," Martin said, either an answer to Jon's question or a begging exclamation.

"I think we've already talked about that," Jon said.

"Yes, of course."

"What else did you think of while you were living there?"

"You. I wanted you. My world was the Archives and you. You actually cared, and it was something that I could hold onto…" 

"What did you want from me?"

"Your desk," Martin said. "I know what you think of me... I thought I knew. You getting so exasperated you just end up bending me over your desk and spanking me." The way Martin's voice trembled made Jon think he'd substituted in a different verb. 

"Hardly seems like a punishment. A reward for good behavior, surely," Jon asked.

"Better than I deserve?"

"I'd say that you deserve better than that. Any other ideas?"

Martin nodded. "You keeping me under your desk, waiting until someone actually attractive comes in to talk to you. Me waiting for you to get hard before getting to take you in my mouth. For someone else to excite you, someone better." His voice gave out at the end there. His insecurity seemed to make him so fragile. 

Jon wanted to reassure him, to throw compliments at his feet, but it wasn't the right time for that kind of thing. "A statement giver, really, Martin?" Jon said, just a little insulted.

"Or someone...else,"

"Martin," Jon said. He would pull the words out of Martin somehow, some way. 

"Tim," Martin blurted out. He felt intimidated by the other man. That had been obvious, "Tim's... I know what Tim's like."

That was a surprise, but made a kind of sense if Jon really thought about it. The idea of Tim and Martin together was burrowing through Jon's brain (no borrowing, no worms; no spiders). He had wanted to ask Martin about other things, more serious matters, wanted to know more about what went on. Now he wanted to know more about what had gone on.

"Fuck. No, he and I weren't... it wasn't ever like that," Martin giggled. "It was before the whole Prentiss thing, back when I still kind of liked my job. We'd had a few drinks, flirted a bit. Nothing new with Tim."

"Did Tim ever tie you up?" Jon said. His voice was rougher on his own ears than he'd anticipated.

Martin shook his head. "Never even asked. We basically just kissed, that was all. That was enough. I couldn't trust him like this."

Jon's archival assistants could form attachments with whoever they liked, even with one another. It wasn't any of his concern what they did. Except now he was personally interested. "Who called it off?"

"Me," Martin said. "I had to, it was clear that I was just using him to process my feelings for..."

"For," Jon prompted when Martin had been silent for more than long enough. 

"You," Martin said. "Just the idea of you was more important than the reality of him. I thought it from the start. It's not right to think that."

Jon was pretty certain that Martin had made the wrong choice and backed the wrong horse. Tim was objectively more attractive than either of them, able to win over anyone (except apparently Martin). Tim would have been able to give Martin more than Jon (and obviously had, in just a few illicit liaisons). But Martin had held back from Tim, if he was to be believed now. 

"That first time, we'd been talking about you. He was talking about what he'd do with you if he could, then I offered to demonstrate on him what I'd like to do with you. The look on his face was just... horrified and horrible and way too into it. It was something we had in common, that both of us would have rather had you there."

"He was a proxy," Jon said. He wouldn't have thought that he and Tim were interchangeable in any way, but it sounded like Martin had been making some with what was readily available. 

"I never wanted that. When I first approached him..." Martin paused, and carefully rewrote the past. "When he first approached me, I never even thought of it like that. I thought you two… best case, that it was done. You knew each other, I thought maybe you and he had some kind of history."

"You were trying to distract him," Jon said. Martin was more manipulative than he seemed, trying to pull people's strings.

"Not like anyone would pick me over you, over Tim."

"Tim did." Jon said. "I absolutely am. How are your wrists?" Jon said.

Martin moved them experimentally, testing the rope. "Fine."

"You say the word and we'll stop."

"Please don't stop," Martin said in a small voice.

Jon checked the rope for himself. He was out of practice, didn't like the asymmetrical lie of the rope. Martin seemed fine with it. "Reality isn't as good, as it?"

"For you?" Martin looked like he'd been stabbed.

"For you."

Martin looked down, embarrassed. "Reality is good." He shifted his weight as if trying to hide an erection which seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

He kissed Martin's forehead. Martin gasped as if he'd been burned, face flushed. "Jon," Martin panted, shifting his not-inconsiderable weight to get closer to Jon. "Please." It wasn't at all clear what he was asking for.

"Use your words," Jon teased.

"Fuck," Martin said. "You just need to keep using yours."

"Some night, we're going to test just what my voice can do to you. Not tonight, at least not yet," Jon said.

Martin was holding his breath. "This isn't just... there will be another night?"

"If you'd like. I'd like more opportunities with you like this." Jon cleared his throat. "Several more, if it's doable."

"Yes, absolutely," Martin said.

Jon touched his cheek. Even close up, Martin was impressively sized. He had height and width and breadth, a slight excess of all three dimensions that implied a solidity that someone like Jon could hardly compete with.  "I want..." Jon started. It was too much, he couldn't find the words. He was worried that they'd knot together and get tangled, that his meaning wouldn't be understood. He couldn't find the courage that went with the words. Jon kissed Martin, just to stop the strings of words from tumbling out. Martin pushed into the kiss, nearly knocking them both over. 

"If you fall on top of me, that would be very bad," Jon explained, murmuring into the corner of Martin's mouth. "I'm going to untie you."

"Why," Martin begged.

"To make sure your wrists are alright," Jon said. "And so I can kiss you properly." 

This explanation seemed sufficient for Martin. Jon untied the rope. As soon as his hands were free, Martin held Jon's face and kissed him. 

Jon was still half crouched over Martin. "There are more comfortable positions," Jon said. 

"Busy," Martin said. Jon easily pulled back, because Martin released him at the slightest pressure. 

Standing was very different than both of them kneeling. The word "towering" came to mind, even if Martin wasn't that much taller than Jon. The sensation of being in control was ebbing away. Martin was hungry, starving, and Jon was all he had an appetite for.

Jon wanted to ask for reassurances, but actions were louder than he could handle. Words would be deafening. 

Martin was still following Jon's lead. He didn't seem to think he had the situation in hand, just that he had Jon in his arms.

"Come sit down." He led Martin over to the chair. "Relax. We have all night."


End file.
